print November 1974

Jonathan Borofsky at 2,096,974

SINCE 1967–68 JONATHAN BOROFSKY has been making art that is entwined with the evolution of his inner life, or, on the other hand, with “the infinite nature of the universe.”¹ Every artist’s work is more or less a continuum, but the three main projects Borofsky has begun over the last five years go on, and on, and on, in a manner which implies fear of breaking the life/art progression, or cycle, of which they are part. Because he is an artist, he has made art out of his compulsive delving into the sources of his identity and his anxieties; were he not an artist, his activities might simply be

print December 1973

Ree Morton: At the Still Point of the Turning World

SHE LIKES RAYMOND ROUSSEL’S Impressions of Africa because “the mental pictures are always changing; you can’t make them concrete. There’s no frame of reference, no story line or location.” Her own work offers a private sign language which engenders a private space partly constructed from memory, which accounts for the flavor of dislocation. I first saw Ree Morton’s work in the 1970-71 Whitney Annual. It didn’t look like everything else—a wood and screen “manger” with twigs and branches in and beneath it. She still works with containers and enclosures, but after the neatly constructed screened

print October 1973

Hanne Darboven: Deep in Numbers

IN A WAY, HANNE Darboven’s work since 1965 is “all one piece.” Its beauty lies both in its wholeness and in its rhythmic, potentially infinite, expansion and contraction. The armature is provided by simple, but highly flexible number systems. Yet the content does not concern mathematics so much as the process of continuation—a process which takes time to do, which takes time as one of its subjects, and which takes from time (the calendar) its numerical foundations. Much of the work begins from the numbers that form a date (23.9.71, for example, add up as 23 + 9 + 7 + 1 = 40; and 40 becomes the

print April 1967

Sol LeWitt: Non-Visual Structures

THE TWO IDEAS THAT HAVE increasingly occupied Sol LeWitt over the last four years are enclosure, or containment, and the paradoxical relationship between the visual (or perceptual) and the conceptual emphases in making art. His white structural skeletons are the most unsecretive of objects, their interior and exterior components laid bare to the eye; yet the eye does not know how to handle such total revelation, and retreats rapidly to its single viewpoint. The concept of a strictly visual order imposed by previous art can be rejected by LeWitt and certain other structurists in favor of the

print March 1967

Ronald Bladen’s “Black Triangle”

BLACK TRIANGLE—THE SOLE EXHIBIT in Ronald Bladen’s one-man show at Fischbach—rests arrogantly on its point, toward the back of the room, so that one can keep one’s distance if its precarious stance overwhelms. In fact, it is the piece itself rather than its resistance of gravity that overwhelms. (The safety factor is not conspicuous, though at the opening the crowd remained at the other end of the room rather than risking conversation under those overhanging, and awe-inspiring planes.) A solid inverted roof form 9' 4'' high, 10' long and 12' across the top, it is specific in what it does more

Lucy Lippard